The Ravens

On my hour walk through our large cemetery,

In quiet thought in the distance I could see,

Four shaggy black ravens atop a marble tombstone.

Their guttural croaking disturbing this peaceful zone.

As I approached their aggravation grew,

Their pitch and fever intensified anew.

Too close was I they flew to a high fraught dead tree,

With heads askance and glaring eyes they tracked me.

I passed by but on my return a foreshadowing gloom,

There sat the four again atop this tomb.

Off again they abandoned their dark sentry,

The name and inscription for me now a must-see.

Aghast was I to view this ghoul’s horrid history!

“In Death I live in Evil to murder again wantonly”.

George Kibildis

Sparta